Missing the Flowers for the Weeds

He must have been drawn by their color. The brilliant gold against a mass of faded greens and browns. Then, maybe, by the thought of how they could be used. A gift. Something to show me how much he loved me. He stepped carefully among the gravel and dying grass and gathered them one by one until it was enough. A complete bouquet.

“Here, Mommy,” he said as he raised the flowers high above his head, his wide smile shining beneath.

“For me?” I squealed. “Thank you, sweet boy.” I took a long sniff as he watched me carefully. “Mmm,” I said, hiding the truth of their weedy odor. Wanting them to be everything he planned them to be—instead of what I knew they really were—weeds.

Who told you there were just weeds? God whispered to me. They look like flowers to me.

And I paused.

Suddenly aware that He was right. And suddenly filled with thoughts of the weeds in my life. You know, the things I don’t really like about myself. The rough edges. The hard parts. The things that others have pointed out as faults.

“You’re too sensitive” a voice rose from my childhood.

“You can’t just say what you think, it will hurt people’s feelings,” another said.

“Are you being shy, or just stuck up?” another echoed.

And suddenly, I could see a whole field of them. The things in my life that I’d been trying to remove. The things I was ashamed of. Things I thought made me less than what God wanted me to be. I closed my eyes, as I held onto my precious gift of flowers, and wondered:

Who told me these things in my life were weeds to be pulled out?

At what point, exactly, did I begin to think that they were the “bad” parts of me? When someone disagreed with them? When I seemed weak to someone stronger? When people only saw me on the surface?

They look like flowers to me, God whispered again.

Flowers that He planted specifically in me. For a useful purpose. Regardless of what they looked like to me or anyone else. Could it be that the very things I tried to rid myself of, were the things that he could use?

He must have been drawn to me by them. Their brilliant possibilities. Then, maybe, by the thought of how they could be used. A gift He’d given. Something that could show the world how much He loved them. He stepped carefully among the others and gathered me up, because in His eyes, I was complete. Just as I was.

2 Corinthians 12:9

But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.